


Hide Behind

by jinkieswouldyoulookatthis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:03:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkieswouldyoulookatthis/pseuds/jinkieswouldyoulookatthis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this for Anotherwinchesterfangirl, as part of my 300 follower celebration, but it's gotten a little a way from me and is going to be multiple chapters. *shrug*  I just go where the story takes me.</p><p>Of all the coffee joints in the world, he had to walk into your favorite, and damn were you glad he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tall, Dark and Handsome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anotherwinchesterfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherwinchesterfangirl/gifts).



"Yes!" you thought. There was an empty table near the back corner. Placing your coffee on the small round, slightly wobbly, surface, you pulled your laptop out of your bag and woke it up.

"Okay, time to write....here we go..." The cursor on the screen blinked at you, mockingly. You took a sip of your coffee. You glanced around the crowded room. There was the usual mid-day mix of coffee shop patrons in loud, chattering groups, and solitary individuals like yourself, laptops and tablets, even phones, out and eyes cast down at the screens. Retirees reading newspapers, mothers with infants and/or toddlers and the baristas that managed to somehow look chill while preparing and serving up drinks at a breakneck pace. You took a deep breath and tried to clear your mind. The hardest part of writing was trying to make the words come when you had time to write. But you had deadlines you wanted to meet. You had goals and you were determined to stay on schedule. Taking another sip, you set the tall paper cup back down and slowly started to type.

Before you knew it words gathered into sentences which flowed into paragraphs and slowly began filling up the screen. You took a drink and had to tip your head way back only to be rewarded with the sugary dredges from the bottom of the cup. After finishing the scene you were in the middle of, you got up and stretched. It had been almost 45 minutes since you’d sat down. You hadn't realized you'd been sitting there for that long. You threw the empty cup away and got in line at the counter to get another. As you waited for the elderly couple in front of you to finish ordering you stared at the dessert choices in the display case next to the register. Maybe you’d get something sweet before you left later.

The door opened behind you as it was your turn to tell the smiling girl at the register what you wanted. She rang you up and you walked around to the far end of the counter. Waiting for your drink you glanced over to your table in the corner. The grey haired gentleman who had been sitting at the next table over was folding up his newspaper and gathering his things to leave. You turned back to check how your drink was coming along. The barista kept glancing over towards the register. You sidestepped a little to see what he was looking at. Long legs...even longer legs, broad shoulders and muscular arms straining against dark brown button-up shirts with the sleeves rolled up and..."Oh my!" You whispered, barely audible amidst the ruckus. The taller of the two had longish, brown hair that he brushed out of his face as he spoke. Sideburns accented prominent cheekbones that gave way to dimples and a stunning smile as he laughed at something the other man said.

"Large, vanilla creme cappuccino!" A voice said from off to your left.

Speaking of the other man, although he was a few inches shorter, he was still tall and had short, light brown hair that sort of stuck both forward and up. He looked like, well, like he could have been Captain America with wide, sparkling eyes and a square jaw. You thought that the girl at the register might actually combust when he smiled at her.

You heard someone clear their throat loudly near you and you jumped a little. The barista was looking between you and the drink he’d placed on the high counter. “Large, vanilla creme cappuccino." He said pointedly and then glanced back over towards the register and back at you, raising his eyebrows in a smirk.

You laughed a little, quietly, and smiled self-consciously as you took your drink back to your table. You caught yourself watching the two men as they waited for their drinks, Captain America had a paper bag in his hand, he must have gotten something to eat. You sighed, shaking your head. You stumbled through the first few words and then found your rhythm again.

That is, until you heard a deep voice say, “There, in the corner.”

You glanced up as you finished typing the sentence you were working on and watched as the two made their way over to sit at the table next to yours. According to their uniforms, they were park rangers and you wondered what magical wilderness they were in charge of. Tall Dark and Handsome noticed you looking and flashed a brief smile your way. You smiled and, realizing that you had kinda been staring, looked back down at your laptop. It took a second but your eyes finally focused back on the screen and you realized that you had managed to type: Focused on finding the solution, he started hdxrjdj djdkdnd diffusion ghfydjjklm. Dancing fun sfds cenmdkokk.

You sighed, silently berating yourself, as you purposefully backspaced the jibberish and retyped the sentence with less of an illiterate, crazy feel to it.

"So what, we got four MIA and one floater?" Captain America said quietly, his voice low and gravelly, quiet enough to be hard to make out through the din of chatter and hissing steam.

"Yeah, and get this, I did some research, seems that there have been others. A similar string of..." Tall Dark and Handsome's voice had a similar deep timbre but was smoother than Cap's and as he dropped his voice, obviously trying not to be overheard, you lost the trail of his words.

From that point on, you picked up single words or phrases here and there, but not enough to understand what they were talking about. Particularly once Cap started eating the pastries from the bag he was carrying. You could see him fairly well in your peripheral and he took huge mouthfuls with each bite and talked around the food while he chewed. You guessed that looks didn't automatically convey manners and you did your best to get back into your writing.

About ten minutes later your phone buzzed, reminding you of an appointment you had across town. You packed up your laptop and gathered your things. As you stood and slung your bag over your shoulder, you bumped their table.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" You said automatically as you turned to make sure you didn't knock anything over.

"It's okay." Tall Dark and Handsome said, smiling reassuringly at you.

"Don't sweat it, Sweetheart." Cap winked at you and grinned as he took a sip of his coffee.

You smiled, blushing again. And walked out of the coffee shop.

***

Tuesdays were always quiet days at the library. Not that other days were particularly raucous, but Tuesdays were extra quiet and Tuesday evenings were quieter still. So it was without surprise that you found the place deserted with the exception of one of the librarians when you walked in a little after 6pm.

You nodded a smile at Janet as you walked into the main room and took a seat at one of the tables over near the local history section. You weren’t entirely sure how it’d happened, but you had been asked to write a public interest piece about the nearby state park for the Department of Natural Resources’ website. It would give an overview of the history of the park and touch on some of the popular features and amenities available. It wasn’t much, but it would count as a published work and might help you get additional writing jobs. You’d already spent several evenings here, pouring over historical maps and histories of the area that now made up the 200+ acre park. From the original, indigenous inhabitants through the chaos and upheaval of the colonial era through to current times you now knew just about everything there was to know about the place and with very few exceptions, none of it was very terribly interesting. So now you just needed to write 1K-1.5K words about how exciting and interesting a place it was. Easy. You probably didn’t need to be at the library at this point, but it was quiet and comfortable here and then you could easily fact check yourself.

You had been writing for a little over 30 minutes when you heard Janet talking to someone who had just come in. From where you were sitting, you could just barely see her standing behind the counter. The man she was talking to was standing just over enough that he was almost entirely blocked by spinning racks of children’s books, all you could see was his arm, plaid sleeve rolled up to his elbow. Shrugging it off and trying to refocus on what you were writing, you had just started to look back down when, out of the corner of your eye you thought you saw Janet point in your direction. Naturally, you glanced back up and did a double take. The park ranger uniform might have been gone, but there was no mistaking him. Tall Dark and Handsome was headed your way for the second time that day.

You thought, briefly, about looking down and trying to act like you hadn’t noticed him, but it was pointless, he had made eye contact with you almost immediately. “Stop gawking and smile before he thinks you’re a creep.” You thought to yourself. You smiled. “God, look at those shoulders!” Your brain gushed silently and you felt yourself blushing. Initially, it seemed like he was just casually evaluating you and your placement in the room, but then he focused on your face and recognition flashed across his features with a bemused smile of his own. "Oh, no...dimples." You inwardly sighed, sensing that you might make a complete ass of yourself if you actually had to talk to this guy.

He casually pointed at you, his forehead wrinkling up in the most adorable way. “The coffee shop earlier?” He asked when he got close enough to talk at a moderately low volume and still be heard. His voice was gentle and kind sounding, he practically exuded trustworthiness. The little cynical voice in the back of your head whispered something about him probably being a serial killer because that would be a useful skill for a serial killer to have. But, for better or worse, you swallowed that thought down. You nodded, suddenly at a loss for words. He either didn’t notice or was pretending not to as he smiled and pointed at a seat across the table from you. “May I?”

You nodded again, trying to ignore your inner teenager who was now drowning out the cynic by excitedly making high-pitched noises and jumping up and down. Outwardly, you cleared your throat and said, “Please.”

He settled himself on the chair, which barely seemed big enough for him, he was all arms and legs, reached across the table and extended his hand towards you. “Sam Jones.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You shook his hand, repressing your amazement at how small your hand looked in his.

He smiled at you. “Y/N, the librarian tells me that you are a bit of an expert on local history and I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

Although you wouldn’t have thought it possible, your blush deepened. “Oh, I wouldn’t say, I’m not really…” You stopped, laughed at yourself a little and started again. “Does it have to do with the state park? Because that’s really the only history I’m an expert on.”

“Actually, it does. I’m a ranger with the State Park Service. My partner and I were sent from the main office to help manage reports of disappearances here. But it seems that this isn’t the first instance like this in the park’s history.”

You thought back to what you had overheard earlier. Four missing and a floater? You were pretty sure that was it, but rather than let on that you had been eavesdropping you asked, “Disappearances? I heard something on the news yesterday about a couple of missing hikers.”

“In the past three weeks, five people have gone missing that were last seen in the park, with a possible sixth unaccounted for but not officially missing yet.”

"Oh!"

He give a small, sympathetic look that was mostly just a brief tightening of his lips and wrinkling of his brow, before continuing. "There were similar disappearances in the area about a century ago, but the information online is minimal and not very helpful."

"Oh, yeah! In 1915 several people disappeared and were never found. The story only caught national attention because shortly after the last disappearance, a couple of misshapen skeletons were found near a Native earth mound. If it had happened in the 50's it would have been blamed on aliens, but since the Victorians weren't that into space travel they claimed it was monsters. Here..."

Your insecurity forgotten in the rush of sharing knowledge, you got up from he table and retrieved a book from the nearby shelf. You flipped through the pages as you sat back down. Finally finding the right section, you turned the book towards Sam and slid it across the table to him.

"There was quite a monster panic about it at the time. It took a couple of years, but the skeletons were later revealed to be orangutans, not monsters, and a local man, Henry Blake, was blamed for the hoax. It seems he was trying to drum up publicity for an amusement park he owned. It wasn't doing very well and he staged the remains to try to lure in more customers. Regardless of it being a hoax, it did seem to boost business for a few more years, but it went under in 1920 and the land was sold, eventually becoming part of the State Park."

"What about the missing people? Were they blamed on Blake too?" He asked as he skimmed the pages.

"No, actually, they weren't." You said, sounding surprised and he looked up at you. "Huh. I never really thought about that. All of the accounts of the story get sidetracked by the weird skeleton thing and don't ever go back and mention the missing people. They just sort of drop it."

"Was there ever any mention of what they thought might have been taking people, before the hoax was revealed? What kind of monster? Do you know who identified the skeletons?" He asked with such a level of deadpan seriousness that you couldn't help but chuckle. Confusion flashed across his face but was quickly replaced with a small smile and laugh of his own. "That probably sounds ridiculous, but it might be important." And he gave you a sincere smile, silently encouraging you to speak.

"Well, there hasn't been much in the way of large predators in this area for a long, long time, so it seemed unlikely to be an animal. Most likely it was a person, but a lot of folks started speculating wildly about all manner of possible monsters." You got up and selected another book from the shelf. "Of course, there were thoughts of werewolves, vampires, etc., you know, the big Hollywood types." You laughed as you sat back down, noticing that he barely cracked a smile. "Some folks insisted it was Bigfoot. Blatantly ignoring the fact that we're in the wrong part of the country for Sasquatch." You said with mock seriousness, causing him to huff out an amused breath and crack a smile. "Some said it was the work of the Devil. But the most popular theory was actually that it was a hidebehind." You said as you put the book in front of him.

"A what?" He asked as his eyes devoured the open page, taking in the old drawings and skimming the text.

"A hidebehind. Indigenous to North America, it's a creature that was said to hunt and kill those who wandered in the forests. Reported by early settlers and blamed for the disappearance of people like loggers who would never make it back to camp. It gets its name because despite the fact that they were supposed to be large crèatures, they could easily hide behind even narrow trees. It made them almost impossible to see. They would sneak up on a person and then drag them off to their lair."

"To eat their intestines?" Sam finished, his finger tracing the words in the book.

"Pleasant, right?" You shuddered. "I think I prefer vampires. Just sucking blood seems a lot less creepy."

"Huh. It says here that they have a strong aversion to alcohol...hmm." He said and sort of trailed off, reading the rest of the page and flipping it over. You watched him. At first you were so caught up in his eyes, hair, broad shoulders hunched over the table that you almost missed the absurdity of the situation. He seemed to be taking this all a little too seriously. You opened your mouth to say something but he closed the book and looked at you before you could speak.

"Thank you, Y/N. This is helpful." He pushed back from the table and stood up.

"Wait. You don't mean to tell me that you think a hidebehind is behind this, do you?"

"What? No. Of course not." He scoffed. "But, uh, it might help shine some light on who is. I've got to get back. But, seriously, thank you. You probably saved me a few hours of research."

"Do you want my number?" You blurted out before you'd even thought about speaking. "You know, in case you need to know anything else about the park?"

"Yeah, that would be great, thanks."

A moment later you watched him walk away towards the counter, your number on a slip of paper in his pocket and the two books in his hand. He checked out and glanced back at you with a smile as he left. When the doors had slid closed behind him your forehead thumped against the table.

"Holy crap. I'm such a dork." You muttered to yourself.


	2. Things that go bump in the night.

The next day was Saturday and you were puttering around your house cleaning and working on crossing things off your seemingly never ending to do list. Another load of laundry was sloshing wetly around in the washer as the dryer spun and hummed loudly nearby. Turning to head back to the kitchen you jumped as your cell phone buzzed in your back pocket. You fished it out and stared at the screen. It wasn't a number you recognized but you hesitated before silencing it. What if it was Sam, you thought. Although you knew the odds were slim that the handsome Ranger would ever call, the possibility was enough to pique your curiosity. You accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"Hi! Y/N?" The voice in the other end of the line was deep and smooth.

Your heart did a double take and you chastised yourself to remain calm. "Yes."

"It's Sam, err, Ranger Jones. From the library yesterday?" 

You resisted the urge to laugh. Did he really think you would have forgotten him? "I remember."

"I'm sorry to bother you."

Again you almost laughed. Your smile could be heard in your voice as you responded. "You're not a bother."

"I was wondering if you could help me out more regarding the park?"

***

You let your hand drop down to your hip as the call ended. Staring at the phone’s screen in disbelief, the wheels in your head threatening to come to a grinding halt. Sam was on his way over. You blinked. Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome park ranger was going to be in your home in less than twenty minutes. You looked up blankly. He needed your help and was coming over. 

“Shit!” you swore, as your mental wheels clicked back into gear and your heart started racing. You still had piles of laundry all over the living room and hadn’t finished cleaning up the kitchen yet. 

Sixteen minutes later you were doing some deep breathing exercises while attempting to tame your hair. There was a knock at the door. You swallowed.

"Get a grip. He's here for help, that's all. Act professional." You told yourself firmly as you approached the front door.

Opening the door revealed not only Sam but his partner, Captain America, as well. "Hi!" You managed casually enough.

"Hi, Y/N. Sorry to bother you at home." It might have been your imagination, but he seemed to pause, smiling at you for a moment until Cap shifted on his feet. "Uh, this is Ranger Osterberg."

Cap smiled at you, all strong jaw, teeth and green eyes. "Call me Dean."

Your eyes flitted between them, from Dean's confident smirk to Sam's shy seeming, dimpled grin. If you weren't careful these two could spell serious trouble, not the least of which would involve you making a complete ass of yourself. You cleared your throat, which suddenly felt a little dry, and invited them in.

"Would either of you like some lemonade?" You asked as you followed them into your living room.

"No, thank you."

"We're good, thanks."

"So, how can I help?"

Sam sat down on your sofa as he started to unfold a topographical map on your coffee table. "We need to know if there are any sort of caves in the park and where they are."

"Well, wouldn't Ranger Dan be more help with that? He could show you were everything is, take you there."

"Yeah, well, Ranger Dan is missing." Dean said, rather callously you thought.

"Oh no! You think it's related to the other disappearances?" You'd met the Ranger several times, he'd been a little sexist, in an old fashioned kind of way, but you'd always found him to be professional and otherwise friendly enough. People liked him. The thought that something bad might have happened to him was hard to imagine.

"We think so. Nobody has heard from him in the last 24 hours." Sam said.

You sat down next to him and stared at the map while searching your memory. Dean sat in one of the arm chairs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“Oh. Okay,” concern evident in your voice. “Um, well, there aren’t any cave systems in the area that I know of. The native earth mounds are solid. But, uh…” You trailed off, letting your mind wander over what you knew about the area. 

“Well, there is an old well here.” You tapped the map. “It’s the only remaining structure from a farm that used to be there.” Your eyes traced over the map. “And there’s a deep cut back into the embankment along the river right about here. I don’t know if that counts.” You watched as Sam marked both areas.

“That’s good. Anywhere else?” Sam asked encouragingly.

“Not that I can think of. What exactly are you looking for?”

“We’re…” Sam started but was cut off.

“We’re not sure, exactly.” Dean said a little louder than might have been necessary. They exchanged a look that involved a tightening of lips, raised eyebrow and slight tilt of the head from Sam and brow furrow and glance away from Dean. For a second it felt like the air between them had solidified. Sam cleared his throat and the tension broke.

“There’s been no evidence that any of the missing people have ever left the park. So we are trying to figure out where they might be.”

“You think that whoever is behind this is hiding them somewhere inside the park?”

Sam nodded.

“As horrible as it sounds, I would check the well first. I don’t think the cut back would provide enough of a hiding place. But the ground around the well is partially eroded away which has exposed a broken portion of the stone lining. It is possible to get in through the opening. They're always having to warn kids away from it. You said that there are five or six people missing, oh god! Do you think they are all trapped somewhere?” Horrific possibilities started playing through your mind and a sick feeling grew like a lump in your gut. A large, warm hand settled over yours where they were worrying in your lap. Sam gently squeezed until you stilled and looked at him. 

“Hey! We’re going to do everything we can to find them.” He was so sincere, so earnest, that you felt the panic that had been threatening to overtake you subside. You took a deep breath and relaxed somewhat, noticing that his eyes weren’t just hazel, as you’d originally thought, but there were flashes of blue in them that suddenly reminded you of the shady, deep places in the river. The image of him floating lazily along on a hot summer day, that dimpled smile beaming at you, had you feeling warm suddenly.

“Right. We should probably get going then.” Dean said as he stood up. “Y/N, thank you for your help.”

His movement caught your attention, breaking whatever spell you’d been slipping into. To your dismay, Sam withdrew his hand from yours and stood, folding the map up as he did.

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

The three of you moved towards the door. Dean went out first with Sam just behind him. As his partner walked towards the street, Sam paused and turned back towards you.

“Thank you. You’ve been a huge help, Y/N.” 

You smiled and blushed, you just couldn’t help it. “Let me know how things go and, you know, if you need any more help with…anything.” Your cheeks grew warmer as you tried to decide how weird that might have actually sounded. He smiled back at you sweetly. Those amazing dimples shining through for just an instant before his expression shifted. He was still smiling, but it no longer reached his eyes, which seemed almost sad again. In that moment you were sure that would be the last time you saw him.

“I will.” He said, but it sounded like a goodbye.

And then he was walking away too. You shut the door, slowly enough that you were able to note the big, old black car they slid into before the latch clicked. 

***

Your phone was buzzing. Groggily, you opened your eyes, squinting and blinking, trying to clear the sleep out of them. The angry red glow of the alarm clock said that it was 3:17am. Your phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up your nightstand. Getting your hand to function well enough to pick up your phone took some effort, but you managed and squinted at the screen. You had two new messages, both from the same unknown number. You tapped on the first one.

\- It’s Sam, you awake?

Just as you were about to touch the screen to open the next text, there was a very loud, very insistent banging on your front door. You were pulled upright by your heart as it tried valiantly to leap straight out of your chest. In the second of silence that followed you looked back to the glowing screen and read.

\- Dean’s hurt we’re coming over.

This time you were on your feet and moving when the pounding resumed at your door. You’d barely had time to process the sudden onslaught of information and spared just a second for a quick check that you were wearing something that at least covered you decently. Thankfully, you were.

What happened to Dean? Your bare feet raced down the hall. Why were they coming here instead of going to the hospital? The chain rattled against the door as you slid it free. What the hell happened? The deadbolt clicked and you opened the door in one fluid motion to reveal Sam, his arm clutched around Dean’s waist and holding his other arm firmly across his shoulders. Dean’s head lolled forward in a way that clearly indicated unconsciousness.

“Y/N. I’m sorry. He’s bleeding, can you get some towels?” Sam managed to huff out as he pushed past you, half carrying, half dragging the other man inside.

“Sam! Why? What happened?” You pushed the door closed, ran to the linen closet in the hall and grabbed a stack of random beach towels and rags from the bottom shelf before following him into the living room.

“We found it…uh, we found the missing people. But then things got complicated. Dean got hurt and hit his head. I can’t take him to the hospital and this was the closest safe place I could think of. You’re gonna want to spread those out.” He said, indicating the towels and nodding towards the sofa.

How he was managing to look both matter-of-fact and contrite about the situation would come back to you later as impressively odd, but at the moment you were still shocked enough to just go with it. Once you’d laid out enough towels, Sam lowered Dean as gently as he could. As soon as he had him down he started to pull the unconscious man's shirts up to look at his stomach. The fabric was torn and soaked enough that it looked heavy as it moved and stuck in place when Sam let go. There was a wide gash across his right side. Your stomach lurched when you realized what you were looking at.

"Oh!"

Sam glanced up at you.

"Hey. It's going to be okay, it's not that deep, I just need to stop the bleeding and bandage it up." He folded a smaller towel and carefully pressed it to Dean's side. "Hold this firmly." He took one of your hands in his and brought it down to press on the towel. You kneeled down next to the sofa and applied pressure while Sam lifted Dean's eyelids and checked his eyes.

"He looks like he needs a doctor, Sam. What the hell happened? Why can't you take him to the hospital?" The thought that someone might bleed out in your living room worked through your initial shock and you felt yourself starting to properly freak out.

"I'll explain, I will, just help me take care of him first and then I'll tell you everything." He looked at you, all big, soft eyes and earnestness and you felt yourself agreeing.

"Ok."

Relief washed over his features. "I need to get the kit out of our car. Just hold the pressure, I'll be right back." He smiled at you, stood and quickly crossed the room in a few long strides. Dean made a low, quiet noise.

"What do I do if he wakes up?"

You heard a chuckle from the hall as Sam kept walking. "Tell him that he needs to stop being such a dumbass." He called out before you heard the door thump shut.

Dean didn’t make another noise, or move, let alone wake up in the brief time it took Sam to return with an army surplus looking duffel bag and a backpack slung over his shoulder. The duffel sounded heavy as he set it down at one end of the sofa. He let the backpack slide down his arm as he sat next to you on the floor. His hand covered yours again, warm and strong and steady.

“Thanks. Do you have any antiseptics, betadine, rubbing alcohol, anything like that?”

You reluctantly took your hand away and stood up. “Um, I have rubbing alcohol and some Neosporin.”

“Good, could you get those?”

“Yeah, sure.” Quickly, you retrieved the items from your bathroom. On your way back to the living room you noticed that the front door wasn’t shut all the way. There was a stiff breeze blowing outside and you figured that Sam just hadn’t pushed the door fully closed when he’d come back in. You shut and locked the door before bringing him the supplies. “Here.”

“Thanks!”

Suddenly not sure what to do with yourself, you stood by awkwardly. It was an unsettling feeling to experience in your own home. Sam, however, seemed oblivious to your discomfort. He had already spread out an array of first aid supplies while you had been out of the room and now was preparing to disinfect the wound before stitching it up.

“Uh.” He paused and looked up at you. “I could use your help.”

You nodded, waiting for instructions.

“I have to pour some of this,” he held up the bottle of rubbing alcohol, “over the cut and it is going to hurt like hell, but, I don’t want him moving if we can stop it.”

“Sure, yeah, okay.”

“I need you to hold his shoulders down, so he can’t sit up.”

You leaned over and braced your hands against Dean’s shoulders, slowly resting your weight against them. “Seriously, shouldn’t he be at the hospital?”

Sam poured alcohol across the gash. Immediately, Dean’s eye flew open and you felt his muscles tense as he instinctively tried to sit up.

“Hey! It’s okay, don’t move!” You said as soothingly as you could while pushing down on a man who seemed to be about twice your size and made of pure muscle.

“Fuck!” He swore, looked at you and then down between your arms, his eyes going from hostile alarm to guarded concern. “Sam? What the hell?”

“It’s all right, Dean. Just cleaning you up. Relax. I got you.” His tone making it sound like it was just another day at the office.

Dean took a few breaths, rested his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

As you felt him relax a little beneath your hands, you lifted some of your weight off of him, but didn’t know if you should let off completely or stay put.

“Make the stiches even this time.” Dean grumbled.

“Don’t move around like you did last time.” Sam’s reply was firm but good natured. The fact that this was not the first time these two had been in this situation had you wondering, yet again, who they were and what was really going on. 

“Sweetheart?” It took a second, but you realized he was talking to you when his eyes opened back up and met yours. “I could really use a drink. You got anything with some kick to it around here?”

“Umm?” Looking over your shoulder at Sam, who was threading a needle with what looked an awful lot like dental floss, you were surprised to see him smiling.

“It’s okay, you can let go. There’s a bottle of whiskey in the duffel bag I brought in.”

You stood up and walked over to the bag. Crouching down and unzipping it your eyes went wide as the contents were revealed. There was a half full bottle of whiskey nestled amongst an assortment of guns and knives. Cautiously, you removed the bottle and brought it over to Dean, opening it as you went. You watched him take a long swallow of the amber liquid as you sat in the armchair and watched Sam begin to suture up his side.

“So, you want to tell me what's going on?” Your tone was even but serious. 

“It was a bear.” Dean deadpanned.

You glared at him. Sam didn’t look up. Instead, he focused a little more intently on the stitch he was working on.

“I doubt that. There has been exactly one bear sighted in the whole state in the past 144 years and none in the vicinity of this park for at least 150.” 

At that you saw Sam and Dean look at each other. Sam raised his eyebrows and gave a little half frown, which would have been adorable if you weren’t growing increasingly irritated. Dean scowled, opened his mouth, closed it, harrumphed, muttered something about wildlife coming back into the area and quickly took another swig of whiskey. 

“Bullshit. Bears don’t hide bodies, they maul them and make a mess. And I don’t believe for a second that that cut was made by a bear. The edges of the wound are too clean. That was made by something a lot sharper than a bear claw. I also highly doubt that you two are park rangers. So, are you going to level with me and tell me what happened, or am I calling the authorities to report the bag full of weapons and illicit surgical procedure occurring in my living room?”

Another look passed between the two men and this time you could tell you’d won. As he finished stitching up Dean, Sam filled you in on at least some of their story. They were actually brothers, their last name was Winchester. They hunted monsters. Monsters. Actual monsters, like vampires, werewolves, ghosts and ghouls. You had to roll that around in your head a few times before you could move past it. 

“Wait…so are you saying that…was this one of those things? A…what were they called?”

“A Hidebehind? Yeah.”

“Nasty son of a bitch too!” Dean added, his words ever so slightly slurred which made sense once you noticed that the bottle he was clutching was nearly empty. Between the blood loss, the alcohol intake, and the fact that he was getting stitches without any anesthetic you were surprised he was still conscious.

“Did you find the missing people?”

“Yeah, we found ‘em.” Dean mumbled as he finished off the whiskey and set the bottle roughly on the floor where it tipped and fell noisily onto its side.

Sam finished tying off the last suture. He paused and didn’t look up right away as he said, “We were too late to save them.” When his eyes met yours, you could see sorrow and shame looking back at you. But it only lasted for a second. He cleared his throat and went to work bandaging up Dean’s side. “I notified the authorities a tip on where to find their remains and we made sure it wouldn’t get anyone else, so…” He shrugged.

“Damn right we did.” Dean added with a smirk without opening his eyes.

You watched Sam tape a thick pad of gauze across Dean’s side without saying anything, your mind still a swirl, trying to absorb everything they’d said. These two guys claimed to hunt real monsters, claim to have just killed something called a “Hide Behind” of all the ridiculous things, and you just watched one of them sew up the side of the other on your sofa while a duffle bag full of weapons rested nonchalantly on the floor nearby like it’s a gym bag or something. Now that you were really looking, you could see they had scars, you could see callouses on their hands and remember feeling them when Sam had touched you. A warm thrill of electricity danced through you at the memory of his hand covering yours and you shook your head stubbornly to try to shake it off. You could be in a lot of trouble here, you needed to try to keep your focus. But every other bone in your body was telling you that you could trust them, trust Sam specifically. You saw him make an effort to pull Dean’s ruined shirt down. You saw him look at the mess of towels as he gathered up the bandage wrappings and other bits of debris he’d scattered about. You watched his eyes as he took one last measured look at his brother who seemed to be drifting off to sleep. He stood and looked at you.

“Trash can?” He asked, holding out his full hand.

“In the kitchen, come on.” And you got up and led the way into the other room. He dropped the trash into the can and started washing his hands at the sink. You stood near the stove with your arms folded across your chest, very aware of how tall he was and how you didn’t really know anything about him. He scrubbed blood off his hands, rinsed and inspected them. Satisfied, he dried them on one of the towels hanging nearby, turned and leaned back against the counter.

“Thank you.” He finally said. “For, everything. I’m sorry to put you through this, for the mess and the craziness…”

“Why didn’t you take him to the hospital?”

“I couldn’t. The last time we passed through here Dean ended up taking me in to have a stab wound taken care of. There was an altercation with security. That was only a couple of years ago. I didn’t want to risk being recognized. I knew that it wasn’t too deep, that if I could just get the bleeding to stop he’d be okay. He was just bleeding so fast I didn’t want to take the extra time to get all the back to our motel. Your place was a lot closer. I’m so sorry.” He ran a hand back through his hair, brushing it away from his face and sighed, looking down at his feet. He seemed so tired.

“Stop apologizing. I mean, yeah, this is a huge shock and a really weird imposition, and I keep telling myself that I should probably be calling the police.” At that he looked up at you, eyes wide, and you were reminded of your neighbor’s dog when you yelled at him to go home. That look carried more danger to you than if he was threatening you. You felt yourself soften, whatever anger and fear you’d had seemed drained suddenly away. “But I’m not going to. You two can stay, since I doubt he should go anywhere tonight.”

Sam took a long deep breath, his shoulders relaxed a little. A weary smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thank…” 

“SAM!” A rough, panicky shout cut him off. You never would have thought that someone Sam’s size could have moved that fast. He pulled a gun from the back of his waistband and practically launched himself out of the kitchen. From where you stood, rooted to the spot, you watched him round the corner and clear the room with military-like precision. Dean had scooted back into a more upright seated position and was clutching at his side, looking around.

“Where?” Sam barked at Dean, sweeping the room like he was expecting something to jump out at him.

“I heard someone, thought it was you checking on me. Wasn’t you. There’s one in here.”

Sam walked around the room causing him, in the process, to turn back towards the kitchen. You felt a shift in the air around you. The hairs moving on the back of your neck, just as his eyes widened and then hardened, bringing his gun up to point at you.

“Down!” He boomed. You flinched and hunched down into a semi crouch, your arms coming up in front of your face instinctively. A second passed without the gunshot you had anticipated. You opened one eye and then both went wide. A tall, hairy creature was looming right behind Sam.

"Sam!" You pointed over his shoulder and he dropped and spun around in one fluid motion. But the creature had turned at the same time and vanished right before your eyes. 

"Y/N, get over by Dean, quickly."

"Where did it go?!" You were panicking, afraid to move.

"Sam, the machetes." Dean said, pointing at the duffel bag as he swung his legs off the sofa. Sam glanced down briefly but then spun suddenly, bringing the gun up as if he'd seen something near the front door.

"Y/N, I need you to move. Can you do that for me?" You nodded and started to cross the room, unable to shake the feeling that there was something right behind you. Without looking down, Sam picked up the duffel bag and handed it to you. It was heavier than you expected and you almost dropped it.

"Whoa! Easy there. Set that down right here." Dean said. As soon as the bag hit the floor next to his feet, Dean had it open and was removing two short-handled, long-bladed knives. He handed one to Sam who took it, safetied his hand gun and returned it to the back of his waistband. 

"Y/N, here." Dean handed you a shorter knife with a wicked looking blade covered in strange symbols. "Slice with that, don't try to stab."

"Hidebehinds are practically two dimensional." Sam added. "That's how they seem to disappear, they just turn sideways and they're almost impossible to see. Normal weapons work against them though."

Dean grunted as he stood up, his left hand pressed to his side. "Yeah, the trick is to make contact. Sneaky fuckers can dodge most anything that comes straight at them."

There was a long pause as the three of you waited, trying to look everywhere at once. You saw Sam frown slightly at Dean. Dean tilted his head, his eyes darting to Sam's left. You looked, but couldn't see anything behind Sam. Sam turned to his left, facing you fully.

"I thought you said you'd taken care of this thing?" You asked.

"We did. There must have been two of them."

"Yeah, and I'm guessing this one is now super pissed at us."

"So now what do we do?" Your hands were trembling slightly. There was a monster in your home! Dean was turning slowly, his eyes scanning the room, machete held low. Sam was looking past you, his grip shifted slightly on the handle of his machete. The quiet was starting to freak you out, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your hair moved as if by a gentle breeze outside and both men sprang into action. Dean spun, blade held flat and low. Sam turned from the other direction, slicing the same space at neck level. There was an ear splitting scream, rough and guttural, and you suddenly saw something flash into view. Dark, foul-smelling ichor splattered across the room, landing on your coffee table and even reaching your television. There was a thump followed by a bump and there was a large, dark, hairy shape oozing nastiness on your floor.


	3. Better Than a Slap to the Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for Anotherwinchesterfangirl, as part of my 300 follower celebration, but it's gotten a little a way from me and is going to be multiple chapters. *shrug* I just go where the story takes me.
> 
> The monster was dead, now if you could just find a way to relax...

An hour later and you were kneeling in your living room in front of Sam. A slight sheen of sweat had formed on your chest and back as you moved, working together to scrub foul-smelling, black blood out of your carpet before it could set in. The couch was already stripped clean of the blood soaked towels, luckily looking none the worse for wear. Meanwhile Dean, who had torn a few of the stitches in his side when he and Sam had dispatched the second hidebehind, and having consumed an impressive amount of your tequila while getting restitched, was passed out in your room.

Sitting back on your heels, you took a moment to stretch out your shoulders before standing up and carrying the bucket of nasty water into the kitchen to swap it out for clean water, again. That was the third bucket full. You could see a dramatic improvement and felt hope that the rug might not need to be replaced right away. It would get replaced, no question about that, because the thought of ever just sitting on it again made you shudder, but at least it could wait until trash day to get rid of and it wouldn’t look like you had killed someone on it.

You poured the dirty water down the drain, careful to not splash, then rinsed and refilled the bucket. You grabbed the handle with both hands, steadying yourself to lift it back out of the sink when a sound, behind you and to your right, made you jump. The bucket settled back into the sink with a thud and a slosh. You spun around, one hand over your mouth, the other scrambling for the knife in the drain.

"Y/N?" Sam checked from the living room and you froze. The kitchen was empty.

The sound repeated. Facing into the room, you were able to identify the source of the sound as the refrigerator doing whatever it was that always made that sound. Taking a deep breath to calm down, you mentally kicked yourself for not recognizing it right away.

“Y/N?”

“I’m okay. Just…the bucket slipped and I sloshed water everywhere.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, you just suddenly felt too embarrassed to admit your unease to the professional monster hunter in the other room. Hurriedly, you grabbed the bucket and went back into the living room, the skin on your back crawling the whole way.

“I’m sorry.” He turned and looked at you, wide, concerned eyes and furrowed brow, setting your insides fluttering.

“What?” You asked.

“This stuff got everywhere. The room was so nice and tidy before, and now.” He gestured at the wall where a spray of blackish blood made it almost to the ceiling. Sam’s mouth turned down in a frown, his eyes so sincerely sorrowful that you were suddenly struck with the thought of a dog getting caught having destroyed something and you had to choke back the ‘awwww’ that threatened to gush out of you.

“It’s all right.” His eyes flicked from the wall to you dubiously, making you chuckle. “At least you’re helping me clean it up.” You sat the bucket down and continued working on getting monster blood out of the rug.

The next half hour passed quickly as you finished cleaning up as well as you could. The two of you talking and even laughing at random little absurdities, helping to lighten the mood and it became clear to you that he really did feel bad about the mess. He was also smart, funny and, as far as you could tell, an honestly good guy.

“Okay, I think that’s as good as it’s going to get for now.” You said, stretching your arms above your head and rolling your shoulders to loosen them back up.

Sam nodded in agreement, stood and took the bucket into the kitchen. The sounds of him emptying it out into the sink soon followed. Standing up finally, you looked around. There was a blush of dawn beginning to spread across the sky through the window. Despite the cleaning, the room smelled wrong to you still, dank and unclean. Tree branches swayed gently outside. When you slid open the window a warm, fresh breeze billowed the curtains around you. The floor behind you creaked causing you to nearly jump out of your skin as you spun around, your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding.

“Hey! Whoa! Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Sam said quickly, his hands raised, palms out in surrender even as he towered over you.

Your stomach heaved a tiny bit, you swallowed down the sudden nausea as your vision darkened around the edges slightly and gravity tried to pull you in an unexpected direction. Large, warm hands braced you upright, holding your upper arms firmly. Your lungs burned like you had just sprinted down the street.

“Hey, hey, hey. You’re okay. It’s okay.” He said reassuringly.

You shook your head. Your lungs were burning and you couldn’t catch your breath. No matter how much air you tried to pull in you still felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“You’re hyperventilating, Y/N, you need to try to calm down.” Despite the soothing tone of Sam’s voice, despite an understanding of what he was talking about, his words had the opposite effect on you. What if there was another one of those monsters out there? What if there was another one in here? Just the thought was enough to send you into a deeper panic, how could you hope to defend yourself if it actually happened?

“Y/N.”

Your knees went weak and you would have collapsed if Sam hadn’t been holding your arms. His gaze darted down as he felt your weight shift from your own feet to his hands. He adjusted his stance to better support you. When his eyes met yours again he seemed determined about something, but what it was escaped you. Even as he pulled you towards him, even as he leaned down to you, you struggled to process anything more than how doomed you would be if you had to defend yourself from something that could barely be seen. The thought of how close you might have already come to dying a horrible, grizzly fate consumed your thoughts. So when Sam's lips pressed against yours it caught you completely off guard.

His lips were warm and firm and gone too quickly. Your heart was still pounding in your ears, but your lungs weren't burning anymore. In fact, they didn't seem to be doing much of anything at the moment, the shock had caused you to hold your breath. All you could see were Sam's eyes reflecting the early dawn's light just inches from your own.

“You okay?” Sam asked quietly as the unusual mix of green and brown tried to distract you from his words.

“You kissed me.” You managed.

“You needed to calm down.”

“But, you kissed me.”

“I’m sorry. It seemed nicer than slapping you.” He said with a hint of amusement in his voice. As he spoke he started to straighten back up, moving up and away from you some.

He had kissed you. You had been freaking out and he kissed you to calm you down. You didn’t feel calm, but your breathing was back under control, so that was something. His taste lingered on your lips and he was still so close, still holding your arms as if afraid you were going to collapse. You weren't entirely sure that your legs would hold you and were grateful that he hadn't let you go, for more than just that one reason. Gripping the front of his shirt with one hand, you raised up on your toes as your other hand slid behind his head, into his soft hair, and pulled him back down.

Hesitantly, pushing close to him, you moved slowly giving him a chance to back away. His eyes flicked back and forth between yours, searching for something. "Y/N, tonight was traumatic, I don't want to take advantage."

You pressed your lips to his and stopped him from talking. And although he did not pull away, you sensed him holding back. You pulled away just enough to make eye contact.

"Sam, I've been thinking of kissing you since you walked into that coffee shop." The sky behind you was slowly brightening. You could see a hint of blue in his eyes now. How were there so many colors in his eyes? His tongue swept across his bottom lip, his breath warm in the narrow space between you, giving you courage to continue. "I don't want to be alone, not right now. I don't want to worry about what might be hiding behind me, you know? I'd rather focus on what's in front of me."

Tightening your grip on the front of his shirt, you pulled yourself closer, eyes closing as you breathed him in, soap and musky deodorant mixed with sweat and cleaner creating a heady combination that made your insides warm. His nose brushed your cheek, breath steaming across your skin, sending a shiver through you. His long-fingered hands loosened their grip on your arms as they spread wide across your back, warm and protective and pulling you closer. You let go of the front of his shirt and wrapped both arms around his neck. Turning slightly, you caught his mouth with yours.

Nudging him, moving slowly, you coaxed a response from him. While he kissed you back, it wasn't until you tugged at his bottom lip and your fingers snagged in his hair, pulling a little rougher than you'd intended, that he made a gasping noise of consent and nodded into you, his face tipping further down as he stood up a little straighter, so that your head tipped back and you were pulled tight against him, standing on your tippy toes, feeling barely tethered to the ground. No longer tentative, his mouth crashed and pressed against yours, pulling you open.

You had no idea who moved first, whether you stumbled into him causing him to take a step back or if he pulled you with him as he stepped back, causing you to stumble. All you knew was that you'd lost your balance, held from falling by his arms as he moved until he sat down on the sofa and pulled you with him. He turned a little as he sat and you practically fell across his lap, his hands never leaving you, strong across your back and in your hair, keeping you close, surrounding you, his face all scratchy fuzz and rough against yours as he nuzzled behind your ear into your hair, across you, leaning you back and curling around you like a deep dip in a tango. It would have felt awkward if he wasn't supporting you so throughly.

And then his lips were exploring your neck, breathing deeply in the scent of your hair, tongue tracing the edges of your ear. Pushing up against him until he got the hint and sat back, pulling and turning you towards him. Your hands pressed against his chest, feeling hard muscle beneath the soft fabric of his old, worn tee shirt, as you resettled yourself on his lap. Time slowed. You lost track of everywhere touched by hands and hungry mouths. Every breath stretched out for minutes as you drown in the feel of each other.

His hands slid up under the back of your shirt, wide palms hot against your warm skin. He kissed down your neck. His hands continued up your back, pushing your shirt up until until you leaned back just enough to pull it over your head and off. His eyes met yours and you felt yourself start to blush, self consciousness whispering those old familiar insecurities in your ear. But then the corners of his mouth pulled up, deep dimples forming, and his eyes, those magical, multicolored eyes, damn near lit up and it felt like staring into the dawn as he caressed your cheek and pulled you back into a long, deep kiss.

\-----

Dean shuffled out of the strange bedroom sometime after noon. Keeping one arm clamped down against his injured side, he rubbed sleep out of his eyes as he walked. The house was silent except for the sounds of suburbia wafting in through an open window in the living room.

"Sam?" He said as the sofa came into view. And then the form on it shifted, separated slightly into two sleeping bodies as Sam pulled a throw blanket a little further up Y/N's bare back...oh, make that two naked, sleeping bodies.

Dean's smile rose with his eyebrows. "You sly dog." He said, much quieter this time, as he turned to go into the kitchen instead. He took the half full container of orange juice from the fridge and drank directly from it as he went back down the hall. "Good. I didn't really want to be up yet anyway."


End file.
